


when you left (you took my bestest friends away)

by knoxoursavior



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe
Genre: Gen, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: Lois supposes she is somewhat of a trouble magnet, but that's fine. Diana is there to get her out of trouble.





	when you left (you took my bestest friends away)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [completist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/completist/gifts).



> this was a little hard to write bc i couldn't get the tone down but !!! i hope u like it well enough!!!

The first time happens at a gala.

Lois is there for the society pages, which isn’t typically something she would cover, but Perry thought she needed a break. Honestly? Lois thought so too, but now that she’s _here_ , it’s easy to remember how grating it is to be surrounded by all these people who put up facades, whose every move, every word is carefully calculated. Not everyone is like that, but most of them are, and the ones that aren’t are either helplessly vapid or helplessly idealistic.

And then there’s the fact that Lois has been told to _play nice_ and _take it easy_ , which isn’t helping the headache that’s starting up at her temples.

Lois doesn’t blame Perry for trying to reign her in a little. Grief doesn’t look good on Lois. She’s been either horribly uninspired or much too aggressive with her last few articles, so she understands she’s not his favorite right now.

Not that she ever was the favorite, of course. She may have written a few Pulitzer-winning articles under Perry’s watchful eye, but Lois is pretty sure that Jenny’s the favorite. She’s younger, more malleable, more likely to listen to Perry.

Perry definitely wasn’t fond of Clark’s eccentricities, or his tendency to turn in sports articles late.

But Lois is familiar enough with this scene that she doesn’t have any trouble getting into the rhythm of working the room, sneaking sound bites out of everyone. She’s in the middle of a conversation with the CEO of Goldstar Incorporated—that startup attempting to fill the gap left by LexCorp, which means Perry will no doubt appreciate this—when she sees Diana across the room. She has her hair up in a sleek bun and she’s dressed in a red satin dress with gold accents, bright and eye-catching. She’s with Bruce Wayne, their arms linked together. Cat would be all over that bit if she were here, but Lois would be more likely to ask about Wayne Aerospace’s recent collaboration with Ferris Air in light of their biggest competition, LexAir, shutting down. And she will when she finally works her way over to Bruce and Diana’s side of the room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Carter. I just spotted a friend of mine,” Lois says, shaking Carter’s hand. “Thank you for your time.”

“Anything for the Daily Planet, Ms. Lane,” Carter says, and Lois doubts that, considering most businessmen don’t want reporters nosing their way into their affairs. Still, Mr. Carter runs a start-up that needs all the attention and support it can get, so Lois supposes he isn’t being quite so insincere.

Lois makes her way through the crowd and it’s Bruce who sees her first. Lois can see his jaw working, his face closing off. She wonders what she could have done that made Bruce Wayne dislike her. She’s never once written an article about him; Bruce Wayne is a name for the society pages, and Lois has always been more focused on LexCorp than any other company in Metropolis. The business reporters covered Wayne Enterprises’ expansion into Metropolis, and Lois remembers that the only time she wrote something remotely related to Wayne Enterprises was when their collaboration with LexCorp fell through just a few years after their Metropolis office opened. Jenny was new blood back then, so Perry had her cover Wayne while Lois covered Luthor for a joint article.

She thinks for a moment that perhaps it was all the articles she wrote about Superman, about the alien he tried to kill but—but _no_. Bruce was broken by Clark’s death, and nothing could prove it more than reports of the Gotham Bat finally calming down after three whole years of him escalating to the point of cruelty.

And, _oh._ That’s it, isn’t it? Bruce was broken because he survived, because Clark died killing their enemy with a spear Bruce fashioned out of Kryptonite to make Clark bleed. Bruce doesn’t dislike Lois; he’s guilty, ashamed, regretful.

Maybe if she were any other person, Lois would have taken pity on him, would have turned around and walked away, but Lois is a reporter. She isn’t supposed to give leeway to anyone, especially if she needs them for an interview.

“Mr. Wayne, Ms. Prince,” she greets.

“Lois, it’s so good to see you,” Diana says, detaching herself from Bruce so she could slide her hands up Lois’ arms, press a kiss to Lois’ cheek. “Please, call me Diana. How are you?”

“Diana, then,” Lois says. She tries for a smile, almost fails, but Diana’s smile is warm, wide enough that it reaches her eyes. It’s a smile that Lois can’t help but respond to, her lips twisting into a grin to match it. It feels odd, out of place, but it’s better than any attempts Lois has made these past few months. “I’m good. Better than the last time we saw each other at least.”

Diana nods, understanding and acceptance all in one gesture, and Lois has to wonder why she gets the impression Diana knows exactly what she’s feeling. It’s hard to turn away, but she does. She fixes her eyes on Bruce, standing an arm’s length away from them, his hands hidden behind his back and his shoulders tense, stiff.

“Mr. Wayne, good evening,” she greets. She keeps her smile on her face, keeps her tone neutral, waits.

She doesn’t get to see his response though, because suddenly, there’s the sound of a gunshot ringing through the room, shouts of _get down_ sending the crowd into a panic.

Lois is bullheaded, but not enough that she’d go against what everyone’s being told to do when she’s in the same room as Wonder Woman and the Gotham Bat. She crouches down on the ground, pressed up against a shaking elderly woman on one side and Diana on the other.

There are eight men in total, seven dressed up as soldiers, machine guns in hand, while the last one is dressed in a blue pinstripe suit that’s much more appropriate for a clown than a villain. It isn’t the Joker—no bright green hair or pale white skin or chilling laughter—but Lois wonders if this is what it feels like to live in Gotham where there are criminals who dress up as scarecrows and cats and all kinds of ridiculous things.

Lois looks at Diana, but Diana is turned towards Bruce. They’re pressed together—Bruce with an arm around Diana’s shoulders, leaning into her space. Lois can’t see Bruce’s lips from where she’s sitting, but Lois assumes that he’s already devised a plan and he’s whispering it into Diana’s ear.

Lois’ attention goes back to the men, five of which have started to search the crowd. One by one, they inspect each person, peering at them, taking some people and pushing others back into the crowd. The man in the pinstripe suit only watches from the sidelines, flanked by two of the soldiers, which is surprising, considering most criminal masterminds would have made a grandiose speech by now. Perhaps Lois has only had experience with men who like to hear themselves talk, but it’s much more likely that the man is waiting to have all of his hostages before he starts making demands.

That’s a mistake on his part though. If he had his men pull the trigger right away instead of first herding his chosen hostages together, he could’ve gotten somewhere other than square one. Diana and Bruce have faced much worse than him, have defeated a Kryptonian abomination together. These men never had a chance with Diana and Bruce in the room.

There is a hand around Lois’ wrist and there is a whisper in her ear.

“Stay here,” Diana says, and Lois does.

The lights go out. It makes sense. The Gotham Bat has always fought in the darkness, and Lois is sure that Diana can keep up just fine.

A commotion starts in the crowd that the men attempt to silence with a few warning shots. They shout, threaten to actually start shooting people if things don’t quiet down, but Lois strains her ears, strains her eyes to adjust to the dark, unwilling to miss even one moment.

But Bruce and Diana are good at what they do. The only warning Lois gets is how Diana disappears from her side. Lois doesn’t hear the bodies drop, doesn’t hear the men struggle. When the lights come back on, they’re already on the floor, unconscious, and the sound of sirens is faint in the air.

Bruce and Diana are back where they’re supposed to be, as if they never left.

“Are you all right?” Diana asks. Her hand is on Lois’ wrist and she helps her up as the host announces that everyone can stand back up as they wait for the police.

“I’m fine,” Lois says, brushing her pantsuit off as she stands. “Are you?”

Diana smiles. “We’ve both been in worse situations, I imagine.”

Diana is right, of course. At the very least Lois will have something to write other than the usual sound bites. Well, she already had a piece from Mr. Carter on his company’s latest partnership with S.T.A.R Labs, giving them access to the Kryptonian ship in Heroes Park, but maybe now Perry will forgive her for barely making an effort on something that he can actually run on the society pages.

She wouldn’t mind that Wayne Aerospace article either. She’ll include a quote about Bruce being terrified for his life and his date’s, and then Lois can go on a tangent about his company. Wayne Enterprises has seen a significant decrease in military contracts since Black Zero, but a partnership with Ferris Air no doubt involves the military. Lois doesn’t know if Bruce agreed to it for his nighttime activities or just to build a relationship with Ferris Air, but she wants to find out.

Of course, Bruce Wayne has been in the business long enough that there’s a chance she won’t get anything concrete from him despite their shared history, but she isn’t one of the Daily Planet’s top reporters for nothing.

Besides, it would be good for the both of them—to talk. It doesn’t have to be about Clark or what they’re both going through. It’s enough to start small and take it from there.

Lois doesn’t quite pull away from Diana, keeps their arms connected as she turns to him.

“Bruce,” she starts. Not _Mr. Wayne_ like she’s been calling him, but _Bruce._ An olive branch of sorts. Unprofessional, and maybe a little presumptuous of her, but she heard from Martha that Bruce called himself her son’s friend and maybe—maybe Clark would have liked that. To have a friend, to have someone other than Lois and Martha who knew all the facets of him.

Bruce answers a beat too late, but Lois understands.

“Lois,” he says, just a hint of uncertainty bleeding into his voice.

“I know you’re probably shaken up,” Lois says, which surprises a smile out of Bruce, just like she intended, “but if you’re open to it, I’d love to talk to you about Wayne Aerospace.”

Lois knows he has to keep up appearances as Bruce Wayne, but it’s odd, seeing the shift in person. It’s instantaneous, seamless, a product of decades of practice. Clark was always Superman in Lois’ eyes, and Superman was always Clark. They just wore different clothes and never let anyone get too close to really _see_. But the line between Bruce’s CEO socialite mask and who he really is—it’s concrete. It’s almost an art how he switches at a moment’s notice.

“Why, anything for a reporter of your calibre, Lois!” he says, and perhaps it’s because Lois knows, but he comes off silly, theatrical. “Perhaps over coffee? I know a place. Diana will come, of course.”

“Of course,” Diana says, squeezing where she’s holding Lois’ wrist.

Clark should be here, Lois thinks. He should be in her place, spending time with Bruce and Diana, using the Wayne Aerospace story as an excuse to be seen in public with them, outside of their costumes.

Instead, Lois is here, and she doesn’t plan on wasting the opportunity. She owes that much to Clark’s memory.

“I don’t see why not.”

  
  


The second time, Lois is in over her head chasing a lead on Mercy Graves who is supposed to be _dead_.

Lois starts out with increased activity at the docks, finds a shell corporation getting dozens of cargo containers shipped into Metropolis every month, and snaps a picture of Mercy Graves while she’s out investigating.

She doesn’t recognize Mercy right away, but when she comes home and sits down to examine her photos, she sees a woman, face turned halfway towards the camera, sleek black hair pulled back enough that Lois can recognize her. Of course, there’s some measure of disbelief, a split second where Lois thinks that maybe, _maybe_ she’s finally started to go crazy after—after.

But Lois takes the photo to S.T.A.R. Labs, gets a second opinion from Jenet, and finally breathes easier when she’s told that it _is_ Mercy Graves. Or—well. At least that’s one problem down and onto the next. But see, Lois has always been a magnet for trouble, and a woman who survived a bomb exploding just ten feet away from her could be nothing but.

It shouldn’t really be a surprise that Lois ends up running from Mercy, who’s very quickly gaining on her. Realizing she can’t outrun Mercy, Lois hides behind a truck, gets her pepper spray out. Her heart is racing, her blood rushing in her ears. She tries not to think too hard about her odds of getting caught, tries not to think about what a woman like Mercy—possibly a meta, possibly a clone, possibly neither of those, all of which are quite troubling considering who she used to work for—could and would do to her if she did get caught.

Lois doesn’t have much of a choice though, except to face Mercy and hope she catches her off-guard and buys herself enough time to escape.

So Lois waits. She keeps her finger poised on the spray nozzle, tries to keep her shaking hands under control, and she waits.

When she finally catches sight of Mercy’s shadow to her right, she tenses up, readying herself for an attack. But Mercy is quick—quicker than Lois, considering that she’s able to catch Lois’ wrist in a vice-like grip before Lois can do anything. Stronger too, Lois thinks, as Mercy forces her to let go of her pepper spray.

Now, Lois has no other choice but to scream, and so that’s what she does. It only earns her a hand around her neck, cutting off her air. She does not think at all about how Clark would have flown in to help her long ago if he were—if he were still alive. Clark isn’t here anymore; Lois has no time to think about what could have been. She managed to survive before Clark, so she should be able to survive without him as well.

Then again, things are looking bleak for her. The only other people she’s seen here are very clearly working under Mercy, and that doesn’t bode well for Lois. There isn’t anything in reach beyond the truck she’s pushed up against, and her vision is starting to blur, her head swimming from the lack of air. She racks her brain, tries to think of a way out because she’s dealt with worse, _gotten out_ of worse situations.

This shouldn’t be so hard and yet it _is_ , and some part of Lois, no matter how small it is, thinks that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she died tonight. It’s the same part of her that clings onto Clark’s memory in all the wrong ways, the part of her that, when she found herself in the middle of a particularly disturbing story, thought Clark was the only truly good thing about this world. It’s the part of her that doesn’t want to live in a world without Clark, even though she knows that Clark would have wanted her to live and move on.

Lois packs up that little part of her and hides it away, forces herself to focus on the situation she’s gotten herself into. She thinks about submitting, giving herself up for the tiniest chance that Mercy will take her somewhere else rather than kill her on the spot. Maybe if Mercy could take her inside the warehouse, tie her up, then at least that gives her more variables to play with than just a woman who’s much faster, stronger, and resilient than an ordinary human being.

In the end, the choice is made for her. Suddenly, there is a flash of red and blue tackling Mercy Graves to the ground, and Lois thinks for a moment—thinks _Clark_ , that must be Clark. But her vision clears, focuses, and she realizes that no, it couldn’t be Clark because Clark is six months _dead_.

Lois clutches at the fabric of her shirt over her chest, tries to hold herself together as her heart breaks into all those little pieces she’s tried again and again to glue back together. That’s not Clark. That’s _not Clark_. Clark died for her. Lois should respect that. She should remember.

It’s Diana who saved her. Diana, who she last saw in armor six months ago, carrying Clark’s still-warm body in her arms, who sent flowers for Clark’s funeral even though Lois knew fully well that she and Bruce were there for the service, albeit unofficially. Diana, who looks at Lois as if she understands exactly the pain Lois feels.

“Are you all right?” Diana asks, and _oh_. Mercy is on the ground, unconscious, tied up with a golden lasso, and Diana has a hand wrapped around Lois’ left elbow, grounding her back to the present.

“I’m fine,” Lois replies automatically. Her throat is sore and she still feels a little dizzy, but she’s not dead or captured, so she’s _fine_.

Clearly, Diana does not believe her.

Before Diana can say anything, Lois gestures at Mercy, asks, “What about her?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Diana promises, “but first, please let me accompany you to the hospital.”

Lois hesitates. She glances at Mercy, then Diana, shield and sword now sheathed on her back. Usually, she’d insist to see things to the end, but she’s _tired_. This whole thing—it hasn’t been good for her. She isn’t as okay as she thought she was.

“Thank you,” she acquiesces. She stops herself from shifting her weight from foot to foot, fully aware of the nervous tic she’s been trying to get rid of half her life.

“Do you mind flying, Ms. Lane?” Diana asks, which makes Lois startle. The only thing that keeps her in place is Diana’s hold on her elbow.

“What?”

Diana smiles easily, appeasing.

“I would call you a cab, but I’m afraid I don’t have my phone with me.”

Lois’ eyes widen, taking in Diana’s armor, lasso strapped to her hip and her weapons on her back. No, Clark didn’t exactly have room for anything but himself in his suit either.

But—

“We’re going to fly?” Lois asks, tentative. The last time she flew was with Clark. The only times she’s flown apart from getting on planes or helicopters have been with Clark.

“Not exactly,” Diana says, and Lois can’t read anything in the twist of her mouth but it’s clear what she wants when she extends a hand for Lois to take. “You’ll just have to see.”

Lois swallows past the lump in her throat. _It’s not a big deal_ , she thinks. It shouldn’t be a big deal, and so Lois slides her palm against Diana’s, lets Diana pull her up onto her shoulder. Diana’s armor is hard, unyielding, and her hair is long, cascading down her back. It’s different from Clark’s suit, almost like a second skin, different from Clark’s short, unruly hair that Lois could thread her fingers into.

“Ready, Lois?” Diana asks.

Lois holds on tight where she has her arms looped around Diana’s middle. She tamps down the niggling feeling at the back of her mind that says she shouldn’t get too close, shouldn’t let herself fall into this rhythm and break once again. It’s just—just a ride to the hospital, just another hero saving another civilian.

“Ready,” she says, and it only tastes a little bit like a lie.

Diana takes a moment to pick Mercy up, and then she takes off, quick and abrupt, rising higher and higher until they lose speed at the top of their trajectory. It makes Lois feel like she’s on top of a rollercoaster, just before the drop, and—well, the rest of the trip is exactly that. Diana jumps over distances more than she flies, and it’s _relieving_ almost. It’s nothing at all like flying with Clark.

No, Lois doesn’t mind it at all.

  
  


The third time Diana saves her, Lois catches her wrist and doesn’t let go.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Lois says.

“There’s nothing to be done about it when you seem to be a magnet for trouble,” Diana counters.

Lois knows when she’s lost an argument, though if it’s for a story, she usually doesn’t give up even then. Now, though, she drops the subject and deflects.

“Want to get a cup of coffee with me?” she asks.

She enjoyed the last time with Bruce and Diana, spent a few hours with them even after she’d gotten all the quotes she needed for her article. Lois supposes she should be more intimidated by a decades-old Amazonian warrior and the feared Gotham Bat, but they’re—nice. Lois doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends besides her coworkers and her contacts. Diana and Bruce are much nicer than Lombard and Cat in Lois’ book, and they’re not her boss like Perry is so Lois can mouth off as much as she wants and not be punished with having to write an article for the society pages or having to deal with the interns.

And they _know_. They know about Clark, about Superman, and they know exactly who Lois is grieving for. It’s comforting, somehow, the same way that Martha is, but Martha is miles away in Kansas, living in a house that’s emptier than it’s ever been.

Lois watches Diana think, holds her breath until Diana finally acquiesces.

“I’ll have to change, of course,” Diana says.

Lois imagines sitting in a cafe with Diana, decked out in her armor. Somehow it’s just a little bit sillier than when she used to imagine doing something normal with Superman; Lois thinks it’s how uncomfortable the armor looks, how all of Diana’s weapons and accoutrements would clink against the furniture, or how she’d lean her sword against the table like it’s an umbrella she’s drying off.

“That’s fine,” Lois says, waving a hand dismissively. “Same place as before, then?”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour,” Diana promises.

“Great,” Lois says, and when Diana flies away, she finds herself a little bit breathless.

  


Lois supposes she is somewhat of a trouble magnet, though this time, Diana doesn’t have to come running.

They’re seated in a table for two by the window, and Diana’s coffee is half-finished while Lois is already on her second cup. Diana is telling Lois all about her job at the Metropolis Museum, on loan from the Louvre for a couple of months to oversee the Metropolis Museum's limited Greek and Roman antiquities exhibit, when Diana suddenly launches herself over the table to cover Lois’ body with hers, just in time to shield her as the glass window beside them shatters.

Before Lois can ask, before she can even look around and try to figure out what happened, Diana is already up and ready to fight.

“Stay behind me,” Diana says, and there really isn’t much choice when Mercy Graves is standing right there with a gun for an arm.

Either the real Mercy Graves is dead and this is some sort of clone or android, or there never was a real Mercy Graves in the first place. This day isn’t going to end without Lois finding out which is correct. As things are right now though, Diana seems to be handling herself just fine, considering she’s managed to cut off Mercy’s gun-arm to her elbow. Instead of blood though, there’s only circuitry, sparking audibly even feet away where Lois is, hiding in the shadows of the cafe.

Maybe  a cyborg, Lois thinks, but that’s less likely if she assumes all those shipments were Mercy androids. Not a good thought.

Soon enough, Diana has Mercy unconscious, missing an arm, shirt torn open at the shoulder to show even more circuitry under her skin. Diana takes something out of a pouch on her hip—a circular black chip that she presses against Mercy’s temple where it stays, blinking.

“What’s that?” Lois asks. She comes out from where she’s hiding, joining Diana on the street.

“An override made by our mutual friend in Gotham,” Diana says. “The last one self-destructed before we could get anything from her.”

Lois frowns. She really should have followed up on that, but she was busy with everything that happened in Midway City, all the obvious cover-ups by the government, all the red tape. Even her most forthright contacts were tight-lipped about it, which can only mean black ops in Lois’ book.

“We’re taking her to him then?” Lois asks.

Since Bruce made the override device, Lois can only assume that Diana brought the first Mercy Graves android to him. Lois already knew that they keep contact; Diana becoming Bruce’s first choice for a plus-one is surely proof enough of that. The last time Bruce came to an event with the same person more than twice in a row, it was years ago, with Selina Kyle. That only really stopped because Bruce stopped showing up to public events entirely.

Diana looks at her, considering.

Lois isn’t a stranger to pushing her way into situations when other people would rather that she didn’t. Clark respected her for it. He appreciated her brashness, her quick mind, her inability to give up on something she’s already bitten into. She loved him for it.

Lois hopes that Diana won’t treat her as just another civilian. After all, she dug herself into this mess, pursuing Mercy Graves knowing fully well that it could be dangerous. She deserves to be there to solve her own problem.

But Diana nods. She bends down to throw Mercy over her shoulder and then she extends a hand for Lois to take.

“We’ll have to move fast,” she says, and Lois startles, realizes that Diana has been fighting without her armor on. Mercy didn’t give her much of a choice, but thankfully, Mercy also drove everyone away from the area.

The sirens of the police cars are quickly drawing close though, so Lois takes Diana’s hand and lets herself be flown away.

  


In the end, Diana takes out a whole warehouse full of androids designed to kill.

She’s goes out alone, her sword in hand, her face set in a focused, determined frown. Bruce would come with her but she just rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re the one who’s paranoid about being seen working with other people,” Diana says. “Besides, it’s broad daylight. It isn’t the Bat’s time to fight just yet.”

Bruce doesn’t quite huff, but it’s close.

“If Luthor’s behind this, he would know either way,” he says, but he steps back, puts his cowl down.

Diana’s lips twist into a little smile, as if Bruce’s strangeness is somehow endearing. Lois doesn’t understand Bruce, hasn’t figured him out enough to really put together a picture of him unsullied by his many masks, but she knows that he’ll hop into his fastest vehicle to assist Diana if there’s any sign she’s in trouble.

Lois sees the lines around his eyes, the tension in his shoulders when he has to look at her or when either she or Diana mention Clark, and she thinks he’s a man who’s made too many mistakes and has too many regrets. No one with that heavy a weight on their shoulders, that their body’s already halfway withered from the strain, would want even more.

So Lois watches Diana go. She watches everything from Bruce’s underground base, through the camera Diana has attached to her headpiece and the one she’s taken the time to attach to a beam for a bird’s-eye view of the warehouse. Bruce is right next to Lois, murmuring warnings into Diana’s earpiece when she needs them, and Alfred is steady behind him, ready to help if need be.

The way Diana fights is _fascinating_. She moves so fluidly, so swiftly. She kicks and punches and parries, and everything looks so natural in the sense that Lois can clearly imagine her spending days and weeks and months practicing, training, sparring until she really, truly gets it.

Clark never really fought so much as he brawled. He didn’t have much cause to train when he was younger, and he was much more concerned about controlling his strength and reigning in his powers instead of knowing how to throw a punch. Clark did try to learn how to fight after Black Zero, but he quickly realized how hard it was to train when he couldn’t go all out in spars. He toyed with the idea of using the Kryptonite to take away his superhuman strength, but he didn’t want to risk overexposure to it.

In the end, Clark had to quit those lessons, and it showed. Lois only caught the tail-end of Clark’s fight with Bruce, but it was clear he wasn’t up to par with the Gotham Bat.

Now, Lois looks at Diana take down one enemy after another, at Bruce sitting still, watching her back, and Lois thinks _Clark could have had this._ Clark could have been with Diana, his back to hers, could have had Bruce’s voice in his ear, helping him along. Clark could have finally found people who could help him be better, help him protect this world and the people he loves.

Instead, he’s dead, buried six feet under where the sun can’t reach him, and Lois is here, in his place. It’s wrong. It’s _wrong_ but Lois will be damned if she won’t stay right here and do what Clark would have done.

So she watches. She watches as Diana finally cuts down the last active Mercy android, as Diana inspects each crate in the warehouse and uses the scrambler Bruce gave her to shut the other androids down completely, render them useless. Diana puts her sword through their faces for good measure and continues doing it even after Bruce makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat that Diana definitely hears.

It takes a while, but Diana comes back with one of the crates strapped to her back that immediately puts Bruce to work. There’s barely a scratch on Diana, though Lois doesn’t know if that’s just because she has enhanced healing or because she’s just that good a fighter.

Clark was powerful; even if he was young and untrained, there’s no doubt about that. He wasn’t untried either. He had heart and determination, and all he needed was another person like him who he could look up to, someone who could put things in perspective for him.

Diana is older, wiser, and she was raised by warriors. Lois has no doubt that as his friend, she could have helped him.

“You can figure out where they’re being made?” Diana asks.

Bruce looks up from where he’s hooking up a Mercy android to a laptop.

“Even if we can’t get anything from this, we still have a paper trail to follow. Luthor’s not here to cover his tracks anymore. We’ll find a crack in his plan,” Bruce says, and it sounds like a promise.

If Clark were here, he’d agree. He never gave up on a problem, never backed down until he’d used up all his resources and done everything he could to solve it. He also loved fiercely, deeply, which is why Lois knows that with this threat on her, he would have would have done anything Diana and Bruce asked of him.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, I will,” Lois says, and when Bruce turns to look at her, she doesn’t flinch.

“I’ll need another eye when analyzing the data from the android and the shipment documents,” Bruce says. “I hear you have experience with that.”

Lois’ mouth twists into a vicious smile, the one Clark loved and hated in equal parts, knowing it means she’s about to dive deep into trouble.

“Plenty.”

Lois helps because of Clark, but not just because of him. She’s here because this is a story she’s stuck her claws into. She’s here because it’s her life that’s in danger, and this is her own mess she’s gotten into. She’s also here because of Diana and Bruce who again and again have saved her life, just like Clark did. She owes them, but more than that, she _wants_ to help them because they’re only doing what Clark would have wanted to do.

Diana and Bruce—well, obviously, they’re not Clark. Lois hasn’t known them for long and she’d hesitate to call them close, even if she will acquiesce to Diana’s insistence that they’re friends. And neither of them live in Metropolis, not really. Bruce lives in Gotham, and Diana’s only a temporary fixture, just here until her civilian identity brings her back to Paris.

Bruce is just one ferry away, but Lois thinks she’ll miss Diana when she’s gone. Diana is a breath of fresh air after months of finding it hard to breathe at all. She’s connected to Clark and yet she isn’t, not like Martha or Bruce.

Later, when Lois has to rest even after all too many cups of Alfred’s coffee, Diana shows her to the guest bedroom. Lois is useless when she’s this sleepy, but she manages to get her slippers off her feet and her feet up on the bed. Diana may have helped her just a little bit, and she also tucks Lois in, which Lois appreciates.

Lois looks up at Diana, looks at the strain around her eyes and the sag of her shoulders that Lois would be hard-pressed to see on a normal day.

“What about you?” Lois asks.

Diana raises her eyebrows. “What about me?”

“You aren’t going to sleep?”

“I don’t need very much sleep. Not like you would.” Diana sighs, smooths out the blanket over Lois’ shoulder, and stands. “Besides, I still need to make sure Bruce gets some sleep as well.”

Lois hums.

“You work too hard,” she says, trying and failing to fight off the heaviness of her eyelids.

Diana huffs out a laugh that Lois doesn’t see.

“We all do,” Diana agrees. “But we do it to keep ourselves safe, so we all can live another day.”

Lois thinks of Nairomi, thinks of the prototype bullet wedged into her notebook, doing everything she could to prove Clark didn’t kill all those people in cold blood. She thinks _yes_ . If she doesn’t try then she can only lose and lose and lose. She doesn’t think she has much more to lose other than herself and so she’ll _try_.

Diana says good night, turns off the light, but before she can leave, Lois speaks up again.

“We’ll get them, right?” she says. Slurs maybe, but she’s too out of it to really care. “Whoever it is we have to get. Whoever’s making these androids.”

Diana looks at her over her shoulder.

“We will,” she says.

Lois believes her.


End file.
